ISOF (13 page)

The group trudged along a tediously winding path that was overhung with threatening branches and snatches of wild brambles. The towering vegetation obscured the landscape to such an extent that Ben only caught occasional glimpses of the rambling countryside and rapidly forming hills around them. Any brief pause in stride or hesitancy resulted in one of the Cutters giving an encouraging nudge in the back and a guttural warning to keep moving.

As they slowly progressed along the trail, Ben saw that at no point did any one of the others appear remotely interested in finding out where they were going or why they were being held captive. Ben quickened his pace until he was half a stride from Noj's back.

‘What's going on?' hissed Ben

Either Noj hadn't heard him or chose to ignore Ben's question. He tried again. ‘Noj,' he whispered urgently. ‘Where are they taking us?'

Noj shook his head very slightly. Without turning around he answered Ben.

‘It doesn't do to ask questions,' he replied in hushed tones. ‘All will become clear soon enough.' He held a warning hand towards Ben. ‘Walk without talk,' he said sternly.

Ben couldn't understand why Noj and the others seemed to accept their capture without complaint. He felt completely lost, both physically and mentally. There didn't appear to be any logical explanation for anything that he'd experienced from the time he'd apparently fallen into the fish tank until now. He sighed, bowed his head and allowed the ground to pass him by.

After a while, the trail suddenly swerved to the left and led the group to a small clearing, with one side giving way to open sky. The group gazed out over the landscape. Outstretched before them lay wave upon wave of tiny hills, with the occasional dark abstract smudge of buildings patterning the scenery. First-Voice jerked his head and the party began clambering down a steep slope towards the valley floor where the grass became a lush green and a myriad flower heads coloured the ground far below.

As the slope began to gradually level out, Ben became aware of a gradual humming noise, a sort of disjointed cacophony of bubble-like sounds. Continuing his haphazard descent, with a mixture of skips and skids, Ben saw that the flower heads in the valley appeared to form one large writhing mass. As he squinted, shading his eyes from the sky, he saw that the coloured flower heads were pulsating, moving to the rhythm of the humming noise that had now grown to a throbbing assault on the ears.

First-Voice motioned the group forward and the group of bemused walkers continued towards the palpitating mass of colour.

After a few minutes, standing where the once steep slope lost its head for heights completely, the group stopped and looked at the surrounding landscape. Ben, for one, couldn't believe the sight that met his eyes. Stretching out before him was a river of people, dressed in an array of bizarre costumes reflecting virtually every colour of the rainbow. The figures slowly made their way along the path in a sort of jerky, bouncing motion, given impetus by the continuous throbbing sounds.

First-Voice, along with the rest of the Cutters silently watched the bobbing procession. Eventually, with an irritable growl, First-Voice beckoned to Kev and his armful of dragon.

‘I reckon it'll take us best part of the night to get through that lot,' he grumbled. ‘Any idea how we can ease our way a little,' he said with a mischievous grin. Kev sniffed appreciatively.

‘Say no more, boss,' he replied. With all the skill of an untutored bagpipe player, Kev gave the dragon's body a few preliminary squeezes and then, aiming slightly above the heads of the colourful crowd, he sent a jet of flame arcing into the rapidly darkening sky.

Those nearest the source of the airborne heat instantly jumped sideways, anxious not to become any hotter than they already were. Others, further back from the flames, squealed and clapped with delight thinking it an outburst of entertainment from some enthusiastic fire-eater. First-Voice nodded to Kev and once more a burst of flames shot skywards. Unfortunately for some, the flames were aimed a little lower than before and several elaborately decorated hats began to smoulder. Several people from the crowd began flinging their hats to the ground and performing a sort of ritualistic jig on the glowing remains of their headgear.

A third spray of fire, this time towards a path of crowded feet, proved the most effective as people eagerly evacuated the path and explored the low growing shrubs that grew profusely close by. Without any signal from First-Voice the Cutters motioned their captives forward while Kev walked in front of the whole group, the dragon held in readiness as small plumes of smoke escaped from its nostrils.

Even with the occasional use of the dragon's pyrotechnics and gruff threats from the Cutters, progress through the buoyant crowd was slow. The continuous pulse of the rhythm emanating from somewhere beyond the crowd generated a sort of carnival atmosphere. At times, the dragon's hot breath was greeted with laughter from several members of the crowd who became eager to see the animal that breathed fire. This unwelcome attention for the dragon increasingly annoyed Kev who responded by shouting at anyone who came close to him.

‘Make way there, gerrout ta road. Shift ya sens,' he grumbled with a malicious glint in his eye.

Reluctantly the river of people parted to let the group through. The dragon, which couldn't offer anything more than a smoky sniffle by this time, had drifted off to sleep leaving Kev to physically push his way through the crowd. Although initially annoyed at the rough-handed approach of the Cutters, various members of the crowd grew inquisitive to know who was being escorted with such urgency. A couple of gaily-coloured individuals allowed their curiosity to overcome their fear as they thrust brightly decorated books towards Ben and Noj with pleas for them to
“mark my book please,”
which they both did with a scribbled flourish and smiled at their temporary celebrity status.

First-Voice sidled up to Ben and Noj. ‘Don't let it go to your heads, lads,' he said with a bruising nudge to Ben's ribs. ‘We don't want anything unnecessary happening to our distinguished guests now, do we?' He gave a rasping chuckle as a member of the crowd began making an approach towards Ben, only to meet sharply with First-Voice's hand. Ben winced at the sound of nose meeting hand and only hoped the owner of the flattened nostrils didn't blame him for First-Voice's lack of charm.

As the group continued their slow progress, Ben noticed that as soon as they had passed through a section of the crowd, it immediately closed again behind them, making any sort of escape virtually impossible. Not that Ben had thought of escape, based upon the fact that he didn't know where he was, where he was going to and how on earth he was ever going to get home. He tapped First-Voice on the shoulder.

‘So, where is it you're taking us exactly?' in a voice that he hoped didn't reveal his feeling of desperation.

‘Over there,' replied First-Voice.

Ben strained to see ahead of him but couldn't see anything but further swathes of garishly clothed people.

‘Where?' he asked, thinking that if he couldn't see where they were going, there was little chance First-Voice could either. Without replying, First-Voice simply strode forward with both arms held out in front of him like battering rams. Several bodies fell under the impact until First-Voice finally stopped, placed his hands on his hips and licked his lips.

‘Here,' he nodded.

Immediately in front of them appeared a vibrant canvas of brightly patterned fields. Moving closer to the riot of colour, Ben saw that the whole thing was a canvas town with gaudy tents, stalls and small booths accommodating a variety of entertainers, traders and pedlars. The more he looked around he couldn't help thinking that he was looking at one gigantic fairground. Everything imaginable was here, a sensory maelstrom that assaulted your consciousness and refused to leave. Some stalls sold pills and potions for removing unsightly hair, warts, and bushy eyebrows. Others sold trinkets, ornamental seaweed, ear trumpets or kites. Several booths had signs that promised the enquirer an insight into their future, providing you paid the appropriate fee otherwise your future was made known immediately as you were shown promptly to the exit and returned to the crowd. Merchants waved pieces of paper making extravagant claims about the products they sold. Shouts and exclamations filled the air, competing for volume and trade.

Rising high above the stalls was a large pyramid-like structure, which disgorged a deep booming sound that Ben thought was just like someone battering his head inside a bucket. Surrounding the structure swarmed another huge crowd as bobbing heads paid homage to the pyramid of sound. At the centre of the structure, raised upon a wooden deck, a group of bizarrely clothed individuals jumped around, whirling large, domed drumsticks that regularly beat a rhythm on a series of metal bins. Several of the crowd tried to climb up to the deck but were forcefully held back by a series of bulbous beings that appeared as giant balls of fur with protuberances that could be mistaken for arms and legs.

Noj looked at Ben and shrugged.

‘Whatever ripples your stream,' he grinned nodding at the mass of people gyrating to the steel pulse.

Ben raised an eyebrow.

‘It reminds me of…'

‘Don't,' interrupted Noj, ‘even think it. We've got enough on our plate without any crass comments about things you can't know anything about.'

‘But I've seen stuff like this before,' said Ben angrily. ‘How can you say that…'

Noj put a finger against Ben's lips. ‘Please,' he asked. ‘Let's just try and get ourselves out of this mess.'

Ben nodded in agreement as he continued to stare at the motley collection of people and sounds.

First-Voice, suddenly noticing that the group had come to a standstill, angrily motioned them to follow him along a kind of alleyway that separated the stalls. Almost immediately, Ben's feet acquired an awkward reluctance to travel further. Alarmed at his inability to move, he fought to lift each foot in turn. As he did so, his efforts were rewarded with a sickly sounding
‘thlup, thlup.'

‘Mud,' grumbled Trep, as he attempted to extract a foot from the cloying ground.

Ben looked down to see his feet engulfed in a trough of glutinous mud. He wondered how some of the other people seemed to be moving quite freely through the quagmire until he saw that the majority of individuals wore what could only be described as a large wooden paddle on each foot. Ben peered down at the Cutter's feet and noticed that they seemed to have miraculously acquired similar wooden paddles.

First-Voice, aware that his four recent acquisitions weren't where they should be, looked around. Without a word, he pointed at two Cutters and then at the four mud-bound captives. Striding through the quagmire with their paddles, the two Cutters took hold of Ben, Noj, Trep and Mak, lifted them clear of the mud and, unceremoniously, carried them on their hips, much like a mother might do with a toddler.

The four wriggled and shouted at their ungainly predicament, but no one took any notice of the small procession and merely moved to aside to let the Cutters through.

After a few minutes, the two Cutters simply dropped their charges onto a reed mat that had been placed at the entrance of a large tent. The tent, which could easily have been mistaken for part of a circus entourage, was brightly decorated with orange and blue squares with faded bunting hanging from each of the ropes that secured the tent to the ground.

As the daylight slipped from the sky, an evening chill blew erratically causing the tent to gently inflate and deflate, making it appear as if it were actually breathing. From his recumbent position on the ground, Ben stared at the pulsating tent for a few moments in disbelief. He felt the cooling breeze against his face and watched the tent fidget. Sighing quietly, he tried to convince himself that the tent's movements were a quirk of nature and not caused by some mysterious force slumbering inside.

Noj was the first to stand up and smooth his clothes into less harsh creases. He twitched his eyebrows to suggest that the other three should do the same. After some overly enthusiastic patting of clothes, all four captives stood patiently at the entrance to the billowing tent.

First-Voice appeared to be in some sort of agitated discussion with the other Cutters. Several times hands pointed at the gaudy tent accompanied by harshly muttered words. Eventually, and reluctantly, First-Voice approached the tent's opening.

‘Don't stand there like a lump of useless granite,' boomed a voice. ‘Get yourself in here and tell me that you've done exactly as I asked.'

First-Voice looked menacingly at the other Cutters and then disappeared into the darkness of the tent. Throaty rumblings seeped out of the tent as the four captives nervously shifted their weight from one foot to the other. The walls of the tent suddenly sailed outwards.

‘Well get them in here you blubber-head,' boomed the voice again.

Within seconds, Noj and the others had been roughly pushed into the gloomy interior of the tent. Slightly disorientated the four captives stood together, comforted by their closeness to each other. Gradually the dimness faded as objects and shapes began to lose their blurred edges.

‘Welcome,' said the voice.

Turning to the source of the word, the four had difficulty in containing their combined fear. Seated in front of them, on a raised platform of pillows, sat a huge, bulbous form. At first it was almost impossible to distinguish where the creature's head was located. Where it was commonplace to see a head, there stood a large pair of shoulders from which hung knobbly lengths of what appeared to be tree branches without their bark. Beneath the shoulders sat a misshapen ball of patchwork leather with gaping seams spewing an assortment of torn cloth, straw and bits of cardboard. Protruding from under the ball was a pair of hobnail boots whose soles had long since parted company with the main part of the boot.